Before he can go after the gobsmacked Michael, the cops throw in cans of Riots B Gone, which emit smoke and drive the inmates back to their cells. All but T-Bag, who sits in the middle of the smoky floor, cradling Adam's body and screaming, "You're a dead man, Scofield! A dead man!" Choking, his shirt covered in blood, Michael stumbles to his cell. As other inmates stumble by, he whirls around, crouched defensively and wielding his bolt as a weapon. Even after the doors slide shut, he continues to stay low and compact, his screw out for protection. Eventually, he slides down the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, and tries to wipe the blood off his hands, but he's shaking too hard. His head drops to his arms and he looks like he's about to break down. It's the first time we've seen Michael completely lose his head in here. Honestly, this sells the character to me. All that drifting around, swaddled in ineffable smugness, was beginning to get to me.
Commercials. I find none of these car commercials compelling because none of these car commercials include things like, "And we have great, low mileage because we know fuel's a precious commodity!"
Meanwhile, at stately Fox River, Pope is giving the inmates the I'm-so-disappointed-in-you speech: "I really don't know what to say to you gentlemen. I try to give you the benefit of the doubt. I try to treat you with respect. But I can't respect a half-assed riot like this! Where are the hostages? Where are the burning mattresses? Why is this floor not soaked with the blood of the unwary? When the guards and I watch a riot, we want to see a RIOT, not sissy-boy slap party! Leave the hair-pulling at home, ladies." Or, you know, nothing at all along those lines. As he talks, Michael notices he's wearing a shirt covered in a dead man's blood, and he tears it off. Anyway, the upshot of Pope's speech is that it sucks to be an inmate for the next forty-eight hours: no visits, no showers, no mess. So...the inmates get cell service for food? Pope concludes, "I strongly suggest that you all learn to get along. Because the next time it'll be a week, and the time after that, it'll be a month. Think about it."
By the time Pope's finished that speech, Michael's regained his cool and has begun scraping his hard-won bolt against the floor. Down in the prison morgue, T-Bag is looking upon Adam's ashen visage and thinking, "Let four Fabulously Gay White Supremacists bear him like my bitch..."
Meanwhile, back on the outside, Veronica's got a call from a Leticia Barris. This gets no response until her assistant helpfully points out, "She says she used to date Crab Simmons." That gets Veronica on the phone. Leticia's all, "Look, I'm not talking to you unless we're in a public place, where they can't get to us." Because Veronica is still a little slow on the update, she still can't fathom that unraveling a conspiracy requires a little cloak-and-dagger work. Leticia snaps at her until Veronica says, "You just name the time and the place."